


teach my skin those new tricks

by oddpen



Category: HALO (Korea Band), 헤일로 | Halo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 19:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10255862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddpen/pseuds/oddpen
Summary: “Um,” he starts, unsure.“Do you want to go out sometime?” Jaeyong asks, eyes lowered shyly.  Heecheon can see the curve of his eyelashes.“Yeah,” he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think about it, “yeah ok.”





	

It had been excruciatingly painful.  

When Heecheon thinks about it he’s not sure why he said yes.

He’d seen Jaeyong around.  It was hard to miss him.  

His tanned skin, broad shoulders.  

He was _so_ painfully shy, so quiet, eyes soft, plushed mouth silent.

Heecheon catches the way he looks at him.  In between the crowds, the space between them.  Through his eyelashes, the fleeting glances, the lowered looks, turning away from him.

It comes as a surprise to him, still.

The morning is cold.  The sun streaming down between the barren tree branches, frost glossing over the dirt ground.

Heecheon’s mouth is dry with the morning, words still unused, catching at his throat.  He’s making his way to the campus library, fogged brain starting to think about his research paper.  

He’s startled when a hand taps at this shoulders, holding him back.  Heecheon doesn’t have a lot of people he knows, much less people who touch him as freely.  He turns with a frown, feeling the way it turns into a look of surprise as he looks over sharp cheekbones, big eyes, a regal nose.  The cold air tints Jaeyong’s cheeks pink, sweeping his hair back gently.

“Heecheon,” Jaeyong is wearing a windbreaker, gloves.  He’s shivering.

“Heecheon,” he repeats, he swallows, Heecheon’s eyes catch on the way his adam’s apple bobs with it, “can I ask you a question?”

Heecheon turns fully, letting his arms drop, nodding as an answer, nose buried in his scarf.

Jaeyong looks caught off guard, as if expecting Heecheon to say no, Heecheon waits.

“Well,” Jaeyong starts, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” the clouds over them cover the sun, eclipsing Jaeyong into shadows.  

Jaeyong offers a smile, nervous but wide, “If you’ve noticed I like you.”

Heecheon had.

“Oh,” he says.

Heecheon can feel the way a blush creeps up his neck, slow.

“Um,” he starts, unsure.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Jaeyong asks, eyes lowered shyly.  Heecheon can see the curve of his eyelashes.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think about it, “yeah ok.”

-

Jaeyong waits for him by the soccer field across the English department.  The weather is still cold, a couple of months into winter.  

“Hi,” Jaeyong says quietly, hand sticking out, fingers splayed to reach for Heecheon’s.

Heecheon notices the faintest of blushes, always present when Jaeyong becomes shy in his movements, his actions towards him.

“Hey,” Heecheon grabs his hand, wondering how Jaeyong’s hand is so warm even in the cold weather, eyes locked on the way his golden skin contrasts sharply to his own.

“Are you hungry,” Jaeyong asks, already walking towards the student center, “have you eaten yet?”

Heecheon makes a noncommittal sound at the questions, startling a little when Jaeyong turns to look at him, smiling, endeared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he complains, taking the lead in their walk.

Jaeyong laughs at him, letting himself be pulled towards the crowd of students.

-

Jaeyong lets him kiss him in a corner of the art building.  The halls are empty, the sound of power tools coming from a work room.

Heecheon stumbles forward, hands reaching blinding, finding a place against the dirt streaked windows.

Jaeyong makes a soft sound when his back presses against the glass, hands grabbing harder at the hem of Heecheon’s jacket.  He pulls him closer, just barely, enough for Heecheon to press harder against his mouth.

There’s the loud noise of the door slamming open, Heecheon feels how hands let go of his sweater, instead pushing against his stomach, insistent enough to break their kiss.

Jaeyong pushes him enough to make room between them, cheeks flushed, chest rising, lips swollen, gone red.

Someone walks towards them, footsteps loud.  Heecheon turns to look, a boy carrying containers, a canvas bag, he can’t see his face under all of it.

They’re quiet as the boy struggles to open a work room, watching as he finally does so, letting the door slam close.

“I,” Jaeyong swallows, catching his breath, “I have to go to class now.”

Heecheon watches him pick up his bookbag, stuffing papers into it, jamming his phone into his jeans, “I’ll text you later,” he says.

Heecheon smiles at how breathless he sounds, raising his hand in a wave goodbye.

-

The room is dim, the lamp by Heecheon’s bed on its lowest setting.

Jaeyong sits at the end of the bed, putting his phone away, smiling when Heecheon tells him to close his eyes.

It’s his birthday, Heecheon made sure not to forget.  Jaeyong had laughed at him, even with his raging blush, when he had seen the way Heecheon had marked it on his planner, a lot of arrows and exclamation marks, a lone sloppy heart.

“Here,” he says, placing a small badly wrapped present in Jaeyong’s open hand.

Jaeyong opens his eyes, looking at the wrinkles, the messy tape on the lumpy present.

He opens it carefully.  

He laughs gently when he sees what it is, a small brown bear plush.

“I don’t have a lot of money,” Heecheon says, “but this reminded me of you...it’s cute.”

Jaeyong looks at him, turning the small bear over, “Thank you,” he says, softly, “you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Heecheon looks at him, gaze steady, “we’re together,” he shrugs, “I should get my boyfriend something.”

Jaeyong’s eyes drop to the small bear, gone shy again, ears red, “whatever you give me...is enough for me if it’s from you, you know?”

Heecheon doesn’t answer, instead leans forward, hands covering over Jaeyong’s.  Jaeyong looks up at him and Heecheon kisses him.

It’s like all their other kisses, soft, careful, slow.  

Heecheon’s arms go up, resting on Jaeyong’s shoulders, hands resting at the base of Jaeyong’s neck, pulling forward.

Jaeyong follows easily, letting Heecheon pull him down.

They move around enough to get comfortable, Jaeyong’s leg sliding between Heecheon’s.

Jaeyong pulls back, eyes dark, mouth opened slightly.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Kissing you,” Heecheon answers, leaning up enough to place a small kiss to Jaeyong’s cheek, “anything you want,” he adds.

Jaeyong pulls further away at that, “anything I want?”

Heecheon feels the blush that rises to his cheeks at the question, “what I want too.”

They’ve kissed before, they’ve touched under the darkness of too late at night.

Heecheon has had small doses of these, just enough to keep him wondering.

Jaeyong looks at him, unblinking, cheeks pink, mouth parted.

He startles when hands find themselves on his thighs.  Heecheon squirms, eyes set on the way Jaeyong’s hand wraps almost entirely around his thin thigh, the way it creeps up, under the worn material of his t-shirt.  Fingers curls over the softness of his stomach, palm riding up, breaking goosebumps over his skin.

Jaeyong doesn’t speak, as he pushes Heecheon up, urging him to sit up, enough to pull off his shirt, effortlessly.

Heecheon eats plenty, but his body has a hard time gaining weight, leaving him thin, soft in places he wishes he was stronger.

He curls into himself out of reflex, this is the first time Jaeyong sees him like this, with his determined gaze, wanting.

Jaeyong kisses his bare shoulder, hands throwing the shirt over the side of the bed, wandering down to the button of Heecheon’s jeans.

Jaeyong stops, fingers stilled, “do you want this too?” he asks.

Heecheon nods.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jaeyong whispers, hovering over him, eyes rounded in wonder, pupils dilated.

“I want to see you too,” Heecheon’s throat has gone dry, voice breaking, “please.”

Jaeyong gets rid of his own shirt easily, in one smooth motion.

His skin is golden, toned in places Heecheon can’t bother to work for.  

Heecheon reaches to touch, the faint lines of his abs, the strongness of his chest.

Jaeyong smiles at him, moving away from Heecheon completely, taking his body heat.

Heecheon frowns as his hands drop back down, unsure on how to ask Jaeyong to stay close to him.

Until Jaeyong’s palm rides up the front of his boxers, enough pressure to catch Heecheon off guard, his hips barely moving with it.

Jaeyong’s fingers squeeze teasingly, Heecheon bites the inside of his cheek, wanting to keep from embarrassing himself.

Jaeyong rubs against him tortuously slow, maddening enough that Heecheon blushes when his hips rise up, wanting to feel Jaeyong against him.

He tenses when he feels fingers splay, curling under the elastic of his boxers.

Heecheon’s hard now, he keens when Jaeyong wraps around him properly, fingers gripping tight.

“Ah,” he breathes, Jaeyong’s fist slides up, careful, squeezing before sliding back down.

Heecheon lets his eyes close, arms dropping limply on the bed, pulling the messy covers of his bed.

Jaeyong’s hand is warm, a lot more pleasurable than Heecheon’s own.  

His teeth bite down against his bottom lip, Jaeyong’s thumb running over the tip, smearing precome down the shaft.

His hips stutter, raising up, looking for the softness of Jaeyong’s hands.

Heecheon’s mouth drops into a silent moan when Jaeyong’s lips kiss under his jaw, down his shoulder, pressing hot kisses against the thin skin of his chest.

Even with the slow descend Heecheon gets caught off guard, legs kicking out reflexively when Jaeyong mouths against his crotch, the bone of his hip, the soft skin of his thighs.

“ _Jaeyong_ ,” he breathes, trying hard to keep his hips from moving when Jaeyong’s takes him into his mouth.

The feeling is warm, a hot wetness that Heecheon can’t get enough of, urges him to stop the fight to not move, to give in selfishly.

Hands reach for his hips, holding Heecheon down to the bed.  

With the heat of Jaeyong’s mouth around him, the way he takes Heecheon all the way down, pace slow, torturous, Heecheon whines.

The muscles of his stomach quiver, cheeks painting red when he hears the wet sounds of Jaeyong’s mouth.

A part of him wants to look, he manages to raise up to his elbows, breath shallow.

Jaeyong swallows around him and it interrupts any thought process Heecheon had been entertaining, arms giving out as he lands back on the bed.

He’s gone all tense and suddenly aware of the way sweat clings to his skin.

He twitches when he feels Jaeyong move away from him, sitting up, wiping his mouth, tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Heecheon says, it’s all get gets to say when Jaeyong goes up to him, crowding into his space, kissing him.

Heecheon reaches between them, fingers finding the way Jaeyong is still hard.

Hands knock his away, the kiss breaking, Jaeyong pressing a smile to his lips.

“You don’t have to,” he says, quietly.

Heecheon looks at him, in the dim room, the way Jaeyong’s skin glistens.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, voice barely a whisper.

Jaeyong presses closer to him, wrapping close them close, face settling in the warm skin of Heecheon’s shoulder.

“I just want you.”


End file.
